


The Man Who Would Be Jack

by toomanycups



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Angst, Comfort, only mild angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanycups/pseuds/toomanycups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack used to be a simple employee at Hyperion. He had a daughter, a wife, a different name, and a different life. Nothing lasts forever, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Who Would Be Jack

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my old tumblr (http://birdmugs-remaking.tumblr.com/post/116965718032/daddy-what-are-those-lights-those-those-are). Now it can be found riiiight-a here (http://birdmugs.tumblr.com/post/126406500671/the-man-who-would-be-jack).

“Daddy, what are those lights?”

“Those? Those are stars, my little Angel. That’s where you came from.”

Honestly, she was going to catch his lie. She always does. Still, he poked her little freckled nose and gave her his usual cheeky smile.

“That’s not true!” 

 _There it is._  

He raised his eyebrows out of mock surprise. His hand clutched his chest, and some over-exaggerated babbling noises released themselves from his mouth. “Me? A  _liar_? Oh, cupcake, your daddy is anything but that,” dropping to his knees, he took a hold of his small daughter’s shoulders and pointed to the sky. “Look,” her crystalline eyes followed his hand, “see how they shine, Angel?”

A small nod.

He took her wrist gently into his hand, pointing with his other at the low, white light emanating from the markings spanning across her arm.

“Now it seems like to  _me_  you have a little bit of that same shine going on here,” He glanced back up at her face just in time to see it light up. A sense of wonder was trickling into her eyes as she lifted her arm up, looking back-and-forth between her siren markings and the stars. “I think someone owes their daddy an apology, hmm?” He was back on his feet, brushing off his knees, trying to keep himself from smiling too much.

It was a lie, yes, but to see the look of wonder on her face was more than worth it. If he was to raise his daughter here, in this rotten wasteland of a shit bucket, he was going to raise her with hope. As she attached herself to one of his long legs, begging for forgiveness and more stories about the stars, he knew he would do anything to protect that little freckled face. He laughed, picking her up and circling, making promises of how he would take her back someday. Back to the stars from whence she came.

It was weird how the moment seemed to fade and Angel’s laughter began to echo in his ears.

“John!” A call from behind him. A familiar voice that sent warmth through his veins and remained in his chest. He felt his face soften as he turned with his daughter still in his arms. 

It was like a hole began to form in his heart. “Yes, darli-”

**_“JOHN!”_ **

His head snapped up from his desk, a collection of drool following him. Snickers from his fellow employee’s cubicles started to become aware to him. Looking up, he saw the cause of disruption from his dream.

“Ahh, Good morning, Mr. Tassiter. Might I say,” Jack rubbed the leftover spittle from his mouth and ran his hands across his yellow shirt in a novice attempt to straighten up, “You are– Wow– you are looking fantastic today. Did you get a haircut? Stacy, right? What a doll.”

Tassiter clicked his bony fingers against Jack’s desk, his beady eyes digging a shallow grave into the handsome employee’s still-drowsy face.

“This is your last warning, John. I think the board would very much like to hear about how you keep a vigorous sleep schedule on Hyperion time. Don’t you think?” If a person could scoff every sentence out of their mouth, Tassiter was the guy. Jack, abandoning an inch of his pride, hung his head. “No, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

The clicking on his desk stopped and he watched as Tassiter’s newly shined, leather shoes walked their way out. He turned to his desk, limply placing his fingers back on the keyboard. The snickers had died down around him by now. He sighed, repeating his usual mantra of  _“One day they’ll see; I’ll be running this place and I’ll be the one laughing then”_.

He looked off to the side of his desk, a small picture of Angel perched there. She was older now, and he didn’t get to see that smiling face from the picture much anymore. That dream he had seemed so real. He could almost still hear her distant laughter. She used to look up to him. Once upon a time, he was her hero.

A moments pause and his face snapped back to his computer screen. His fingers danced along the keys with fervor, a look of determination spread across his face.

If he was to ever to show her the stars he would have to start now. He was going to become the hero.  _Her_  hero.

Even if it was the last thing he would ever do.


End file.
